


Just Beneath the Skin

by VisualSnow



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Mind Control, Nightmares, Non permanent character death, Tw in chapter notes pls read em, all the dreams are based off my own, title may change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-12 02:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisualSnow/pseuds/VisualSnow
Summary: Nightmares aren’t unusual for the sides, but when the terrifying dreams begin to leak into the waking world, they find something sinister has found its way into the mindscape.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello reader, and welcome to my fic! I’ve been wanting to write this for a while, and finally did it! Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this!
> 
> (Tw: threats of violence, drugs, knives, not exactly suicidal ideation but kinda close)

Virgil doesn’to know how he got there, standing in the middle of the living room, his mind foggy and thoughts unclear, but that’s not the important thing right now. What’s important is that Roman is sitting on the couch in front of him, features contorted in concentration as he expertly twists together a noose. There's a long, rough looking rope held in his hands, looping away and down into the floor where it disappears behind the couch.

 

“R-Roman,” Virgil asks, eyes fixating on the lithe fingers that twist the rope into a knot. “What are you doing with that?”

 

Roman stops, surveying his work for a second before nodding with satisfaction and turning to Virgil. The look on his face is serene and calm, as if he just woke up from a well deserved nap. “Why, Virgil, isn't it obvious? We’re going to kill you.” 

 

Virgil’s heart skips a beat as he balks, shocked from Roman’s words. “W-what?” He stutters out, sure he must have misheard. 

 

“You heard me,” Roman answers, having turned back to the rope in his hands. His tongue peeks out of his mouth as he tugs the rope, satisfied smile on his face. “We’re going to kill you!” 

 

Virgil takes a step backward, breathe stopping in his lungs, but instead of the hallway that should’ve behind him he bumps into something solid. Blinking, he finds he’s no longer in the living room, but the kitchen. He’s backed up against the counter, and in front of him stands Logan. 

 

“Oh, hello Virgil.” Logan welcomes. “It’s nice to see you. 

 

The  _ shing, shing, shing  _ of a knife meeting metal echoes through the kitchen, and only then does Virgil notice the blade held in logan's hand. Methodically, he runs the knife along a sharpener, smiling down at his hands as he works. 

 

“Logan, w-what- what’s going on?” Virgil asks fearfully, pressing his back against the counter so hard the corner begins to dig into his spine. The knife glints in the fluorescent light of the kitchen, casting a spot of light against the wall.

 

“I thought Roman explained it quite well.” Logan states, still running the knives edge against the sharper again and again. 

 

“What are you talking about?!” Virgil exclaims. “Please, is this a prank, a sick joke? What’s going on?” 

 

Logan freezes, still for a second, chest not even moving, until he gently placed the knife on the counter and turns to Virgil. He’s still smiling, eyes filled with warmth uncharacteristic for the usually stoic side. 

 

“You heard him.” He says, and it dawns on Virgil that not once has he seen Logan blink. “Your going to die.” 

 

Than he’s falling backwards, tumbling past splotches of colour and sound until he lands on his bed. His lungs refuse to work, leaving him gasping for breathe, gripping his sheets so tightly he feels they might rip. But than he can breathe again, and slowly he sits up, holding his head in his hands. 

 

He’s in his bedroom, and the sense of safety the familiar curtains and posters gives him feels like a breath of fresh air. There’s a dim light shining through his window, just enough to light the room enough to see. Soft humming leeks into the stillness of it all, and Virgil turns his head to the sound and sees a thin cut of light shining from under his bathroom door. Cautiously, Virgil approaches, opening the door with a soft creak.

 

Inside, Patton was rifling through his makeup cabinet, humming a song softly under his breath. After a second he seems to notice Virgil, and he smiles, an action that Virgil would normally take comfort in. But this time it’s off somehow, a puzzle piece that just barely fits into place, crammed into a spot it’s not welcome in. 

 

“Hey there, kiddo!” Patton says cheeky, closing the mirror that covers his medicine cabinet. “I’m almost done, just gimme one minute.” 

 

“Done with what?” Virgil asks, panning his eyes down to the sink, where Patton is arranging something small on the edge. With a shock he realizes that Patton is neatly lining up pills of every shape, size and colour, nudging them into rows like steadfast lines of soldiers. 

 

“Silly goose,” Patton says fondly, reaching out a hand to ruffle Virgil’s hair. He steps back just in time for Patton’s hsbc to miss him, instead drilling inches from his face. Unperturbed, patton shrugs, turning back to the sink. “Don't you remember?” He continues, nudging a blue oval back in line. 

 

“Patton  _ please,  _ you guys are scaring me, knock it off,” Virgil pleads, but his words fall onto deaf ears. 

 

“There!” Patton exclaims, nearly startling Virgil. “Done! Now, time for you to choose.” 

 

“C-Choose?” Virgil stutters out, slowly backing away from Patton. His back hits the bathroom door, and he begins fumbling for the handle.

 

“Well,” Patton begins, thoughtful smile on his face, “I thought it’d be nice to let you decide which ones to take. I’ve heard hydrocodone works pretty well.” 

 

The door bob rattle as Virgil turns it insustantut, pressing himself as close to the door as he can. “Pat, I don’to know what you mean, p-please tell me what going on,  _ please!”  _

 

Patton’s smile never falters, stepping closer to Virgil and placing a hand on his shoulder. Nails dig into his shoulder, past the hoodie and shirt, and Virgil feels a droplet of blood slide down his back. He’s shaking with fear, bile rising to his throat. Patton’s mouth stretches wide, too wide, grin cutting through his cheeks. 

 

“Virgil,” he says, voice tender and  _ horrifying  _ at the same time, “you already know, we’re going to kill you of course!”

 

The world goes black, then white, then flashes back and forth in a dizzying array that blends into grey. There’s a shrill tone growing louder and louder and louder a **n** d l **oud** er  **AN** D  **LOUDER A̸̧̨͏Ǹ̷͞D̢̕ ̶̨̡L̴̢҉̵̧Ó҉̛̕͞U͘͜͟D̀̀͏̧E͡Ŕ̢**

 

And then he jerks awake, a strangled gasp stopping in his throat as he rips the headphones he’d fallen asleep in out of his ears. His heart pounds, his head swims, and the blankets that usually feels safe and secure are choking him with heat and weight. His shoulder aches dully, as if the claws of the dream were still sunk into him. A knock at his door startled him, making him involuntarily flinch back into the corner of his bed. 

 

“Kiddo?” Patton calls, voice muffled by the door. “We’re getting ready for breakfast, do you want to join. 

 

“N-No!” Virgil calls, trying to mask to panic that leaks into his voice. “I’m fine, not hungry!” 

 

_ Just a dream, just a dream,  _ he repeats, taking deep breaths, in and out, in and out, until he feels steady and grounded. It was one of those rare, terrible nightmares, one of the kind that crept from the darkest crevices of the mind, spelling out terror in jagged cursive. Virgil knew he was okay now, that soon enough the fear still fresh in his mind would fade away, forgotten. But still, the thought of seeing the others shot irrational fear into his heart. He just needed a few hours to cool of, then he’d be fine. 

 

Plugging his headphones back in, vigil settled back against his headboard, bringing up his favorite rhythm game on his phone. Soon enough the steady tapping of tiles to music soothes his worry, and he finds himself relaxing. 

 

So much, in fact, that he didn't enough notice the shadow in his corner seep back into the floor, its job done. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Tw: blood, violence, non permanent character death, knives, mind introl(?), just a general bad time)

It’s been a slow day today, passing by in a pleasant haze of simplicity. Thomas was productive, planning out a new video and even cleaning up the kitchen. Now patton is standing in the kitchen, pausing his dinner preparations for a second. The other sides are spread around the living room, each lost in their own activity, but together all the same. Virgil is sitting in the edge of the couch chair, balancing like a cat with his headphones plugged in, head gently bobbing to the music only he can hear. A few feet away, Roman is draped over the couch, eyes fixated on the tv, which is playing frozen. Occasionally he’ll begin humming (or singing) along with the songs. Logan is sitting in a reclining chair, thick book held in his hands. Occasionally, he too will bob his head along with the music blaring from the tv. 

 

Seeing his boys like this, relaxed and happy, brings a smile to Patton’s face. So often they’ll fall into silly feuds and petty arguments, so seeing everyone together gives him a happiness he wouldn't trade for anything. 

 

Still with a smile on his face, patton turns back to the dinner he’s preparing. There's still several veggies that need cutting, and if he wants to finish soon he’ll have to hurry. He still has to cook them after all!

 

Smoothly, Patton slices through a carrot, making methodical cuts until he’s left with a handful of carrot pieces. He grabs another, falling into a rhythm of chopping. He lets his mind wander as his hands work, letting himself drift away on thought. Until suddenly, he realizes his hands have stopped moving. 

 

Patton tried to move, to twitch or blink or  _ anything,  _ but he’s stuck in place, unable to do anything. Unknowingly, his breathing speeds up, chest rising quickly as he starts to panic. He’s just frozen in place, unmoving, unable to do anything why is this happening-

 

“Pat?” 

 

Virgil’s voice rings through the fear that’s started to clot his thoughts. From the corner of his eye Patton can see that Virgil is no longer perched on the arm of the couch, but instead standing. 

 

“You okay?” He continues, walking closer. Patton can do nothing, just stand there, staring down at the assortment of veggies in front of him. There’s noise from the living room, shifting springs and cushions, and the white and red of Roman’s shirt comes into view. 

 

“Padre? You alright over there?” Roman asks. Patton wants to do something,  _ anything,  _ besides stand there. Footsteps approach him,and he feels a hand on his shoulder and- 

 

And he moves. 

 

He twists, hand swinging wide, arching out towards Virgil, and too late does Patton realize he’s still holding the knife. 

 

The world moves in slow motion. The knife held firmly in Patton’s hand swings towards Virgil, who’s eyes widen as he stumbles backwards, but he’s not quick enough to avoid the bite of steel. Blood splatters out, and Patton can't even blink as it hits his face. 

 

A scream breaks the sluggish movement of time, and the world resumes its course. Virgil kneels on the floor of the kitchen, hands holding his throat, mouth opening and closing as he gasps for breath. Roman rushes into the kitchen, knees hitting the tile as he pulls Virgil towards him in a panic. Logan Follows close behind, grabbing a towel to press futility against the gushing wound in Virgil’s throat.

 

“Virgil, Virgil no!” Roman cries, and then turns to Patton, Virgil still cradled in his arms. “Patton… why?” There are tears running down his face, falling like raindrops onto Virgil’s blood stained jacket.

 

Patton wants to scream, cry, do anything,  _ anything  _ to stop this. But he’s trapped in place, watching as Virgil’s eyes flutter, than stick open, glassing over as his chest stops moving. Roman lets out a wail, and Patton’s heart feels like it’s been shattered irreparably. 

 

But despite the grief that runs through his veins, despite the bile that threatens to rise in his throat, Patton stalks forwards, raising the knife.

 

And then his eyes fly open, flinching against the assault of the bright fluorescent lights of the kitchen. 

 

“Patton? Oh thank god, you're okay.” 

 

Patton turns his head towards The voice and sees Virgil, alive and unhurt, kneeling over him with a concerned look on his face. 

 

“Virgil, you’re- you’re okay,” Patton whispers, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. 

 

“Oh course he his, Patton, it’s you we should be worried about.” Logan says, coming into view. “That was quite a fall, Are you alright?”

 

Slowly Patton sits up, head spinning as he moves. His neck and shoulders hurt, and he winces as his head pounds. “W-What happened?” He asks, holding a hand against his head. It feels wet and sticky, and when he looks at his head again it’s covered in blood. “Why am I…” 

 

Roman kneels down next to him, placing a napkin against his bleeding forehead.  “You fainted, and hit your head on the counter. It’s not terrible, just bleeding a lot, but don't worry.” 

 

Tears overflow from Patton’s eyes, and the other three sides eyes widen in surprise. 

 

“Pat?” Virgil asks, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” 

 

“N-no,” Patton stutters through the tears, “I-I just, i had such a terrible dream and I  _ h-hurt  _ you, a-and-“ 

 

“Woah there, padre, it’s alright,” Roman reassures, rubbing a reassuring hand along Patton’s back. “It was just a dream, okay? We know you’d never hurt Virgil.” 

 

“Yes, the thought that you would hurt any of us is atrocious.” Logan adds. “You simply suffered from an very realistic nightmare, that’s all.” 

 

“I-I know,” Patton sniffs, wiping away tears with one hand and holding the bloody napkin with the other, “I just- it was so awful, and so  _ real,  _ and- well, I’m just glad it wasn't real. I’m glad you guys are okay.” 

 

Roman flashes him a reassuring smile, and then helps him to his feet. “We’re glad your okay too, Pat. Now, let’s get a bandaid on that cut.” 

 

Patton nods. “Alright. Can it be one of the cute ones?” He asks. Roman’s smile widens. 

 

“Of course Pat, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who commented!! Next chapter should be up within a week or two, see you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!


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